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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661281">flowerboy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nico_niikura/pseuds/nico_niikura'>nico_niikura</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:27:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nico_niikura/pseuds/nico_niikura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Max Verstappen is himself, no matter what mold the world wants to shove him into.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>flowerboy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know it's been a while since I published anything. AO3 isn't my primary passion, but I'm still writing! Fear not my friends.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>The skin was soft.</p><p>Heavy breathing, light touches to his collarbone, and soon he was falling. Falling into the pleasure, into the ecstatic bliss that he had kept from himself.</p><p>Why had he kept this from himself?</p><p>His mind was empty, filled with the sensation of hands on his body. So many hands, touching him, grasping him, whispering down his stomach. Hands feeling up his thighs and gripping his waist. Hands teasing him, flirting with his body in a delicate dance between the world and the sky.</p><p>Oh, why couldn't he a be a woman?</p><p>---</p><p>Max fidgeted with the top button on his shirt. Normally, he wouldn't have even done it, but he couldn't be caught alive with the sin covering his chest. It was conspicuous and ugly in the daylight, but he didn't regret any of it. Why would he?</p><p>Fuck. There he was. Max let go of the button and stiffened his back.</p><p>He was sitting at the dining table, newspaper in his hands. His glasses were low on the bridge of his nose, a cup of barely steaming tea forgotten on his right. In this light, he looked gentle. Kind even.</p><p>Almost.</p><p>Max knew better than to test his luck around him. Though the sun still hung in the sky, he knew that the monster only appeared at night.</p><p>Every night.</p><p>Like clockwork, when the moon ruled the dark waves of clouds, his father turned into something sinister. Ever since his mom left, at least. It was like the feminine energy in the household was holding back all the anger and resentment that continued to pile on for years.</p><p>Then one day, it was released.</p><p>He pushed the tide of memories to the back of his head and continued upstairs, careful to keep an eye on the figure flipping through the world's problems.</p><p>"Good afternoon, Max."</p><p>Max's jaw clenched, but he stopped obediently on the stair step. "Good afternoon."</p><p>His father didn't even look up at him, scanning an article carefully. "How is your girlfriend doing?"</p><p>Max blinked slowly, his jaw clenching harder. "She's good."</p><p>"Daniella, isn't it? You've never shown me a picture of her," his father said, flipping the page casually.</p><p>"No, I haven't." Max's grip on the stair banister tightened ever so slightly, his knuckles starting to strain and turn white.</p><p>As if he were a villain in a children's movie, he turned his head around to look at Max. His soft but piercing blue eyes stared into Max's soul, searching for any hint of hesitation on his face. Max remained calm, but his grasp tightened and he sucked in his cheeks slightly.</p><p>"You should bring her around sometime, don't you think?"</p><p>That half-smile, half-smirk. The glint in his eyes. The slight tilt in his eyebrows. Max could read that simple expression like an extended novel, maybe even a saga.</p><p>"I'll think about it," Max replied.</p><p>Satisfied, his father turned back around to his paper, carefully placing one leg over the other to cross it. He sighed audibly and took a sip from his tea.</p><p>Max started on the stairs again, making sure to avoid the crooked panels in the flooring to not make any more sound than he should. Once he was on the landing, he rushed for his room and made sure the door didn't slam behind him.</p><p>Max sighed heavily, stopping to put his back against the door. He breathed slowly, feeling the sweet air fill his lungs again. His mind was racing, faces flashing across his consciousness. The wheel of fortune didn't land on anyone in particular, but it strayed away from the many faces of his father to display something softer. Something warmer. Something more welcoming.</p><p>Olive skin, dark curly hair, encompassing golden brown eyes, and most strikingly, the rough shave it sported. Max blinked, staring at the ground in recollection.</p><p>Maybe he was holding back tears, but mostly he was holding back the fear that consumed him.</p><p>---</p><p>"Babe."</p><p>The voice was so sweet, like syrup on oats. It was breathy like a gentle spring wind, desperate as a fish searching for water, and soft as the grasses that covered his homeland, though his home was far now. All worries were forgotten when a finger was pressed to his lips.</p><p>"Yes, Daniel?"</p><p>"Why do you have bruises on your arms?"</p><p>Max opened his half-lidded eyes suddenly. He noticed the silence in the room, the sweat starting to fall down his forehead, the finger barely touching his slightly parted lips.</p><p>"It's nothing."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>Oh, those whispers gave him life. The sounds that mouth could make toyed with his senses, putting him on the edge of a deep unknown that he knew would feel incredible. All he wanted was to fall again.</p><p>"Don't worry about me."</p><p>A brief pause again highlighted the intense situation they were in. Their legs tangled together, their hands intertwined lazily. The sweat dripping now, the silence deafening him.</p><p>The finger was taken away and replaced with soft lips. Max sunk into it, feeling every shift, every movement, every time he felt the warm tongue touch his mouth, every time he felt teeth gently pressing into his bottom lip. Again, the hand fell from his and grabbed his waist, pulling him closer to the warmth next to him. He felt the leg between his thighs raise slightly, grazing something that made Max gasp quietly. The lips took advantage of that gasp and moved to his jaw, the teeth gently nibbling against the bone. It was evil, tantalizingly evil how the softness of touch could turn his mind inside out. It was devilish. It was sinful.</p><p>Pure sin.</p><p>---</p><p>He wouldn't stop.</p><p>It hurt so much. It hurt his face, his heart, and his soul. He rubbed the slowly blooming violet on his bicep, letting the pain gently sting him.</p><p>Yet he couldn't feel anything but shame. Shame for himself, shame for who he's become. Shame for what he's done and what he hasn't done. Shame for what he's said and what he hasn't said. His face burned with it. His heart raced with it.</p><p>"Get up, you little bitch."</p><p>He didn't want to. He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. He wanted to run so far from here, as far as his legs could take him. He wanted to go back to where he knew he was safe. He wanted to go back to that warmth he once felt. The warmth he could just barely feel on his fingertips.</p><p>He heard it before it smacked him on the head. He held back a whimper and got onto his knees, shaking.</p><p>"I'm going to ask you one more time. Who got you those green flowers?"</p><p>The carnations. He knew exactly who they were from. He knew exactly who had put in that order. He knew exactly what the intention was, what they were supposed to represent.</p><p>He silently wished for his quick demise.</p><p>"If I were stupider, I would think you were some kind of faggot, but I know that my son is better than that."</p><p>His words stung like the bruises on his face. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the ground, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do.</p><p>
  <em>Slap!</em>
</p><p>"Are you faggot? Are you? Are you a little fucking faggot that likes getting it up the ass?"</p><p>Max felt the tears before they could spill onto his face. He choked them down, careful so they wouldn't show themselves. His face burned more, his cheeks feeling like they were on fire. He thought back to that soft face and stiffened.</p><p>"No," he croaked out. His voice broke, and he was struggling to hold back the floodgates.</p><p>"I want to hear you say it, boy. Say 'I swear I'm not a faggot'."</p><p>Max choked on his spit. His chest hurt. He breath was starting to shorten, but he quickly reset it.</p><p>"I swear I'm not a f-faggot."</p><p>There was a moment of silence where Max could feel his heart thrusting, struggling to keep him alive. He could feel his father's breath in his face. He could almost touch the anger that boiled him into a stew. He could see the tension in the room, so thick you needed a sharp sword to cut through it.</p><p>His father stood up fully. Max didn't dare take a single breath.</p><p>"Good. I want you to throw those flowers away immediately."</p><p>Then he was gone. Max licked his lips, boring a hole in the ground with his eyes.</p><p>Then, he let himself cry.</p><p>---</p><p>"You seem to always come to me with more bruises on you than before."</p><p>Max clenched his jaw, then let go. He was comfortably in a pair of strong arms, head and arm resting on the warm, broad chest.</p><p>He notice the hand coming towards him, and instinctively braced for the worst.</p><p>"Babe, I'm not going to hurt you," the voice whispered into his hair. "I just want to feel your face."</p><p>Max relaxed only slightly as the large hand began to touch his face softly. When it grazed his cheekbone, he winced.</p><p>The voice sighed, and the hand receded. "Please, just tell me what's going on."</p><p>Max bit the inside of his cheek, feeling the chest move up and down with every breath, the heart inside beating slowly. He prolonged the silence as long as he could, until it was nearly one inevitable that he give an answer.</p><p>"I wish this would last forever," he said, drawing small circles with his index finger into the chest.</p><p>A hand grabbed Max's, interlocking the fingers. It was such a simple but intimate gesture, as if to say 'my hand is now yours and only yours.' The hand squeezed his, then loosened slightly, not quite letting go.</p><p>"You can't keep avoiding the question, Max."</p><p>---</p><p>He had to leave. He didn't know where to, but he knew he had to go. There was nothing he could do to save himself. There was nothing he could say to keep his father from killing him. He knew what he left on the dining table. He knew what his father had seen.</p><p>Max grabbed the bag he always kept packed with essentials and turned off his lights. He cautiously shut the door to his room, and began to make his way down the stairs.</p><p>But there he was. He was at the bottom, waiting for him. Waiting to stop him. Waiting to hurt him once more.</p><p>His eyes were no longer a gentle blue. They were like ice, penetrating into his mind like the strongest truth serum, as if to figure out what exactly Max was thinking. He smiled a sickly smile. It made Max's stomach drop.</p><p>"Mind if I come along with you to Daniella's?"</p><p>Max gulped hard. He weighed his choices. He could hole himself in his room and never see Daniel again. He could jump down over the railing and risk breaking his legs and possibly not escape. He could walk down the stairs and face certain death. Oh god, what the fuck was he going to do?</p><p>"She's not expecting anyone else but me tonight," Max said, standing his ground.</p><p>His father put his right foot on the first step. "Surely, she won't mind meeting me."</p><p>Max clenched his fist. "I don't think you guys are ready to meet."</p><p>He took another step. "Is that really the reason?"</p><p>Max stared at him, his jaw starting to tighten. "Yes."</p><p>Another step. "I saw something... interesting on the table when I went to grab my glasses."</p><p>Max stayed quiet.</p><p>Another step. He pulled out a colorful poster from behind him and waved it in front of him. "Recognize this?"</p><p>Max stared at it, feigning confusion, but he knew he was solidly fucked.</p><p>Another step. Just three more to go. "Now, why would a poster for a gay club be in this household, I wonder?"</p><p>Max felt his heart beating faster, his breathing growing shorter.</p><p>Another step. "I know I'm not a filthy faggot. And there's no one else in this house but you."</p><p>Max pressed his lips together, blinking slowly. His fist was clenched so hard the blood was rushing away from it.</p><p>Another step. "But, you can't be gay. You have a girlfriend, your 'Daniella'."</p><p>Max could feel him breathing. He stiffened so sharply he could feel the bones cracking in his back.</p><p>One last step. "Unless your 'Daniella' is a 'Daniel' instead."</p><p>Blue eyes met blue, but for a split second, Max saw red instead.</p><p>Before he could realise what he was doing, his father had fallen down the steps onto his back and Max found his fist raised in front of him. Max blinked, then rushed down the rest of the stairs, taking care to not step on his father. He didn't breathe, he just ran out the door, not caring to shut it behind him. He swung out his keys and hopped into his car, turning it on and pulling out of the driveway before he could see his father's angry face stare back at him.</p><p>He swore he would never see it again.</p><p>---</p><p>His face turned from confusion to shock.</p><p>"Max! What's wrong?"</p><p>Max blinked slowly, then threw himself onto Daniel. Daniel stepped back, but kept him steady. Max was holding onto him for dear life, as if he still couldn't believe he was real. None of this was real, was it? This was all some crazy nightmare.</p><p>"Fuck mate, okay, let's get inside alright?" Daniel pulled him in and shut the door behind them.</p><p>"Dan, I'm sorry that I never told you about any of this. I should have said something, I shouldn't have hid it from you, I shouldn't have-"</p><p>"Slow down babe," Daniel said, rubbing circles into the back of Max's neck. "One thing at a time."</p><p>Max looked up at Daniel. God, he was beautiful. That perfect face seemed to have been crafted by angels. Those deep brown eyes, those messy yet delicate curls, the way he expressed emotions with his eyebrows.</p><p>How could someone so perfect be his?</p><p>Max straightened out, letting go of Daniel. He put down his bag, then leaned into Daniel's chest. Daniel held him protectively.</p><p>"I'm sorry I never told you where those bruises came from."</p><p>"It's okay," Daniel whispered in that lovely breathy voice of his. Max relaxed into Daniel's arms, feeling more comfortable than he had been all day.</p><p>"My father, he..."</p><p>"Homophobic? Mine too."</p><p>Max looked to the side. "He hurt me all the time... when you sent those flowers, when I didn't let him see you, when he saw the poster I left on the table..."</p><p>Daniel held him tighter. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."</p><p>"I didn't want you to know."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>Max blinked, starting to feel tears. "I wanted everything to be perfect... I didn't want anyone to worry about me..."</p><p>There was a small pause, enough for Max to appreciate how much he needed an embrace from Daniel. Not Daniella, not his girlfriend. Not some random person. Daniel, his boyfriend.</p><p>"Max."</p><p>Max looked up at Daniel expectantly.</p><p>"I am <em>never </em>going to stop worrying about you."</p><p>Max bit his lip.</p><p>"You're my flowerboy. I don't want anything, or anyone, to hurt you. And no matter what, I'm going to worry about you."</p><p>Daniel turned to look at Max, his eyes full of such compassion and love. It was so different from the usual iciness he got from his father. It was so welcoming and warm and enveloping. Max could feel himself falling into those eyes over and over. He never wanted it to stop.</p><p>They kissed gently, Daniel being cautious of the old bruises on Max's face and Max trying his hardest not to cry.</p><p>Nothing was perfect. Nothing would ever be perfect. No matter what he tried, he would never achieve perfection. But that's the beauty of life, that no matter what, there's something to improve. There's something to grow from, there's something to leave, there's something to join. The future is infinite, and the past is already gone.</p><p>All that mattered right now was the present. And right now, being in Daniel's arms was the best thing Max could ask for.</p>
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